


Famous Blue Raincoat

by JustSemiotics



Series: The Leonard Cohen Variations [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on a Song by Leonard Cohen, Emotional Hurt, Multi, letswritesherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSemiotics/pseuds/JustSemiotics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, I see John is awake. He still keeps your lock on his gun. Will you come by here, Sherlock, in that place that I call home?</p><p>sincerly,<br/>m. watson</p>
            </blockquote>





	Famous Blue Raincoat

Dear Sherlock,

it´s four in the morning, the end of december. I´m writing you now just to see if you´re better. London is cold, but I like where we´re living. The news come in and we get a glimpse of your life. Whenever your face appears on the screen, John´s fingers type in thin air. I fail to read the message, but I always understand. I guess I forgive you, I´m glad you stood in my way.

The last time we saw you, you looked so much older. You were at the train station, running, as if to meet every train, solve every case, think every thought at once. Your coat was torn at the shoulder. And for a second John straightened up and was on the edge of dashing after you, fixing your coat and the lines on your forehead and the shelfs in your mind.

That evening, he invited me to dinner and ordered for one. I guess that was the first time I missed you. I miss your constant presence in the stories he told, about his hero, his friend, his Sherlock. You treated my John to a flake of your life. When you fell, he was nobody´s man. But the stories, the fairy tales remained.

He waited for you. All the time he was ready to be called. Ready to go to the only place he knows, the place that drew him from the afghan deserts, drew him from his nightmares. Drew him from our bed, the night you brother phoned him. I picture him, my John, on that night, that morning, sitting in his chair in 221B. His hands folded in his lap, back erect. 

Did you know that he kept a lock of your hair, Sherlock? I found it in his drawer, the night I learned about the gun. The lock was placed on the trigger and I had to ask him. His mouth couldn´t explain wether it was a warning or a calling. But his eyes, Sherlock, his eyes could.

He waited for you, Sherlock. And then he heard you coming up the stairs, calling his name. And you, you stepped in and you looked at him. John´s words of that moment are bare, but he wears your gaze as a blanket to sleep now. You looked and you observed his lines, his angles, his bends. And whatever you saw there made you turn and leave.

He doesn´t question you, Sherlock, he just assumes that you made the correct deduction, the right decision. But I am not him. I question you.

Was it me you saw on him? If so, what did you see? How many leads has John left on the two of us? The lock was the first trace I found of you. But then I started to notice and there were the books and the notes and the kettle. Sometimes I trace the lines on the skull and wonder how she coped.

Well, I see John is awake. He still keeps your lock on his gun. Will you come by here, Sherlock, in that place that I call home? In my dreams I see you coming while I´m asleep, taking John by the hand and dragging him with you, out of the door and onto the streets and through the crack in your coat into your heart.

Did you ever go clear?

sincerly,  
m. watson

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the song "Famous Blue Raincoat" by Leonard Cohen. It´s a very moving, enigmatic song - so I saw it fit to use it for a moving, enigmatic relationship. 
> 
> I used various lines from the lyrics, rearranged them and bended them to fit for the letter Mary writes.


End file.
